


A Year Abroad with Artichokes

by SamanthaStephens



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Exchange Student, F/M, M/M, Mentions of casual drug use, Pining, small town
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-03-15 23:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3465983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamanthaStephens/pseuds/SamanthaStephens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames is doing a year abroad in a sleepy little California agricultural town, where he pines after baseball star Arthur and tries to raise as few suspicions as possible in his host-brother Dom, who is busy trying to catch the eye of the school's other exchange student, Mallorie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Late September

Eames is sitting in the class they call "Health"--although it seems to him that it ought to be called "Sex," no "Straight Sex and All the Things That Could Go Wrong While You Have It"--and trying not to stare too conspicuously at Arthur, who is twirling one lock of hair around a finger as he surreptitiously checks his mobile. 

Arthur is both the highlight and the bane of Eames' existence. 

Sitting across from him while the teacher drones on and on about ovaries or some related female mystery in which Eames has negative interest, not to be sexist or whatever, is torture. Because all he can think about is Arthur in the back of his car with his fingers in some girl's knickers and his mouth working around an exposed nipple. And the mental image is both arousing and horrifying. 

It's no matter that Arthur isn't paying the slightest attention. Arthur never pays attention in class. He's somehow a good student despite this, which only makes him more impossibly alluring. 

Eames wonders what Arthur is doing on his mobile. Probably looking up some baseball score. Or perhaps reading about videogames. Baseball and videogames seem to preoccupy at least half of Arthur's attention. Naturally Eames finds baseball incomprehensible and is rubbish at videogames. 

But perhaps Arthur is texting Dom to make plans to bunk off during last period. They'll invite Eames, because Dom never questions including him. Nor does he ever seem to consider that Eames might not want to spend his days doing the activities that Dom himself favors--chiefly sitting in a field of artichokes, drinking crap American lager, smoking, and talking about sports and girls. 

But how can he say no when Arthur will be there? 

And beyond that, with whom would Eames spend his time with if not the boy with whom he's currently living?

Eames had applied to do a year abroad on an impulse. He was in a fit of fully justified pique with a couple of his friends and wanting to shake up his life a bit. And had been thrilled beyond belief when he learned he'd been assigned to California. 

Little did he know that there was a long way between Los Angeles and San Francisco and that not everyplace in the state had a beach. Instead he'd ended up in this Central Valley farming community that reminded him of nothing so much as Rebel Without a Cause, all jocks and repression and conformity. 

Only without the rebel; perhaps Eames is meant to play that part, but he's too fucking cowardly to do so in a place like this.

He sneaks another glance at Arthur, who is every bit as lovely as James Dean, in Eames's opinion. 

Eames' mates from home would hardly recognize him as he is here. 

In his regular life he's artistic and perhaps a bit flamboyant. He earns top marks at school and spends his afternoons rehearsing at the community theatre or busking with his musician friend Naomi or attempting street performance with Stephen and George and Lucas from school. He wears threadbare clothes from the charity shop and tee-shirts with ironic sayings on them. 

He's out socially, although not to his parents (who nevertheless probably suspect), and sometimes sneaks into a club in next town over where he lets men much too old for him kiss him and grope him on the dance floor, but has otherwise preserved his virtue in some embarrassing hope of falling in love, which probably won't happen until he's at university anyway and then he'll regret having waited. 

Only he's somehow half in love with Arthur based on absolutely nothing at all, seeing as they have fuck all in common and Arthur is almost certainly straight, even if he never seems to go out with anyone from school, despite apparently being the star of the baseball team.

Eames' instincts turn out to be correct. After class Arthur nods him aside with a jerk of his head, and they pile into Dom's truck. However instead of an artichoke field, they end up in the deserted corner of an almond orchard. Dom smokes cigarette after cigarette and questions Eames about the school's other exchange student, a French girl called Mallorie. 

She's utterly disdainful of the small agricultural community and unlike Eames isn't afraid to show her true colors. It hardly seems to matter to her that half the students at school hate her for her arrogance, and probably for her stunning beauty as well. Somehow Eames is one of the few she favors, entirely down to their being "trapped here together," as she puts it. 

Dom is absolutely mad about her and is always trying to get Eames to put in a good word for him. But Eames, being the coward that he is, has hardly said anything about his host brother to Mallorie, not wanting to fall out of her good graces, when she's one of the few people he doesn't feel like he has to fake it around--or at least he gets to fake it in an entirely different sort of way with her, pretending to be equally as cosmopolitan as she, instead of pretending to be equally as butch as Dom like he usually does. 

"So you're telling me she's never said a word about me?"

"Well she did once ask if I could find out how to get hash around here. She didn't mention you by name, but she must have figured I'd ask you." 

Dom's face lights up. 

"Now we're getting somewhere! I got a guy up north at college in Chico who can hook us up with some primo weed when he comes down this way for fall break. If Mallorie wants to burn one down, then I will provide." 

Arthur giggles, "then maybe Dom can bone one down." 

He sounds more than halfway to pissed already, which isn't surprising considering how many empty cans are in the truck bed and Dom is driving and Eames knows he's only had one himself. 

Eames rolls his eyes. He honestly doesn't know why he's so infatuated sometimes. Except that Arthur uttering the word "bone" sends a shiver running down his legs. 

"We have the homecoming hayride the week after that. Sounds like the perfect place to cozy up and get to know each other." 

"Hey Mallorie," Arthur says in a crap impersonation of Dominic's voice. "You wanna go for a _ride_ with me, baby?" 

"Oh fuck off," Dom snaps at him, punching Arthur lightly on the shoulder. "Why've you gotta act like you're 12 all the time? No wonder all the girls ignore you, no matter how many baseball games you win." 

"Yeah, 'cause things are working out so well for you on that front," Arthur bites back with the familiarity of someone who knows there's no line he can cross and lose Dom's affection. 

"Better than they are for you, son. Better than than they are for you." 

To this Arthur simply smirks. 

Dom never acknowledges this sort of response, but Eames absolutely believes that Arthur must be shagging someone, because he always seems so blissfully unconcerned about such matters, where as Dom obsesses over them. And Eames himself spends no shortage of time fantasizing about Arthur, as well as wondering whether he ought to have let some old bloke pull him properly back at home, because there's certainly no hope of having off with anyone in this little town. 

"Don't say anything to her until I get in touch with him, just in case," Dom adds. 

"Yeah you wouldn't want to promise more that you can deliver," Arthur says, making an obscene gesture. 

Thank fuck they seem mostly unconcerned with discussing any conquests--or lack thereof--on Eames' part, back home or here in America. After an initial cursory comment about occasionally meeting people at a club when he was back home, they've left it alone. 

Arthur's mobile pings. 

"Fuck, I forgot I'm supposed to take Ari home tonight," he says. "I'm way too drunk. Eames, do you think you could drive us both home in my car?" 

Eames' heart lurches. 

"I, er ... I don't know how to drive," he responds. 

"You're joking?"

He hates letting Arthur down. He's never asked a personal favor of Eames before. 

"I would have been eligible for a license this year, but, well, I'm here, aren't I?" 

The words sound overly formal and unbearably uptight to his own ears, but Eames supposes he ought to be grateful he managed to get anything out at all. 

"Why don't we teach you then?" Arthur says, grinning far wider than Eames thinks is necessary at this idea. "Dom? Can we give him a little lesson in your truck?" 

"I don't think that's such a hot idea, dude," Dom responds. "He could hit a tree." 

The two of them argue back and forth about it for a bit, before Dom relents and agrees to drive them to a field on the other side of the highway, where Eames' chances of doing damage are minimized. 

His heart is racing and his palms are sweating as Arthur and Dom take turns piling on instructions. But he manages to lurch around the field in a choppy circle without too much trouble. Then they make him drive back and forth along one stretch of roadside until he can more-or-less stay in a straight line. He's terrified of going too fast and Arthur calls him a "granny," but Eames just can't work up the courage to pick up any more speed. 

"Good enough," Arthur mumbles when his phone pings with a series of texts, probably his sister inquiring as to his whereabouts. "But you're going to need some more practice if you wanna start pulling your weight as designated driver, considering you drink like a girl." 

Eames blushes deeply. He's fairly certain this is just Arthur's brand of affectionate teasing, but the remark hits close to home, as he's constantly afraid of seeming effeminate to his new American friends. Not to mention the reason he drinks so little is that he can't risk letting himself go and say something inappropriate to Arthur, or God forbid, look at him longingly or touch him. 

Dom takes them back to the school, and then follows as Eames drives excruciatingly slowly to Arthur and Ari's house, just off the main square of what passes for a downtown. Arthur is blessedly quiet the whole time, respecting Eames' need to concentrate. After they arrive, however, he punches Eames' shoulder as he would Dom's and says, "it's like being in the car with my fucking Great Aunt Mary, honestly." 

Ari surprises Eames by lingering as he hands over the keys. 

She's dressed in a pair of high-top sneakers and an old Army jacket and is carrying around a beat-up old guitar case. She looks exactly like the sort of person Eames could be himself with here. Which is obviously why he's terrified of her, considering that she's Arthur's sister and he couldn't possibly confess his secrets to her under the circumstances. 

"Hey, uh, Eames, I was thinking that you might be interested in helping paint the scenery for the fall play?" 

For some embarrassing reason, in lieu of an answer, he blurts out: "Who told you that?" 

"I always see you carrying that sketch book around," she says, shrugging. "And Miss Avery says your work is super good. She said that since you won't join Art Club, maybe you'd do scenery instead." 

Miss Avery, the art teacher, is Eames' favourite and she keeps inviting him to join her after school group and he keeps declining, because he doesn't want to bother Dom about rides home and such. Although Arthur will apparently be busy with baseball come the spring, Dom doesn't believe in afterschool activities at all, unless working on his truck counts. 

"I wouldn't have a way to get home after," he says, perhaps a bit too honestly in front of Dom, to whom he doesn't want to appear ungrateful.

Much to his surprise, Arthur pipes up with: "I'll be picking Ari up anyway. I could scoop you, too." 

Dom looks relieved. Eames' heart does somersaults.


	2. Mid October

Working on the set design team is instantaneously Eames' favorite part of life in America. They're staging a show he knows well and it's a secret comfort to him to spend time with it. 

Of course, he hadn't let on his familiarity with the work when Miss Avery walked him through her stagecraft notebook on his first day. It hadn't seemed prudent. 

Despite his enthusiasm, he tries to stay reserved as the other kids in the group squabble and shriek and flirt with each other around him. He is afraid to let on how much it relieves him to spend three afternoons a week drawing and painting and draping fabric instead of playing butch with Dom and Arthur. 

He adores Ari, and not just because she's the reason he gets to spend time riding home in Arthur's car three nights a week. She's strange and funny and completely unselfconscious. If she weren't Arthur's sister, Eames would probably have completely opened up to her by now. As it is, he contents himself to chat with her a bit at the start of each stagecraft meeting. 

It turns out that she's actually quite crap at scenic painting. But she's brilliant at working with all the drills and saws and such, which is good, because they terrify Eames. She cackles and claps her hands every time they need to break out some sort of electronic device. 

"My dad sells farm equipment," she explains, when she catches Eames looking at her like she's deranged. "There is no tool I cannot master." 

Eames can't help but snicker at that, imaging what Arthur would have to say to such a declaration. 

"Ew!" she says, hitting him in the shoulder, just like Arthur does. "Don't be gross! You sound like my brother! You're supposed to be proper and English."

When there isn't any building to be done, Ari mostly takes out her guitar and plays them songs while they work, which is lovely. When she plays, she reminds him of Naomi and he feels homesick for their busking afternoons. 

On the days between stagecraft meetings, Eames spends his afternoons out in some field or another with Dom and Arthur, as usual. 

Dom takes to teasing both Eames and Arthur, saying that Eames has designs on Ari. Arthur scowls every time and tells Dom to "shut his pie hole," but doesn't say anything to Eames about it at all. For his part, Eames protests that he just likes painting and it doesn't have anything to do with fancying Ari or anyone else either, which is true enough. 

If it were any other girl, Eames would probably welcome the misunderstanding. But not Arthur's sister. He knows he doesn't stand a chance with Arthur regardless, but Eames just can't bring himself to pretend to fancy Arthur's sister. It's pathetic, he's well aware, but it's the way it is. 

Anyway, Eames has noticed her mooning about over that boy Robert Fischer, who has a leading part in the play and who pops around at least once a week to say hello to the stagecraft group and to try to impress Miss Avery. Personally, he thinks Robert is a bit of a prat and that Ari could do better, although he certainly understands the aesthetic appeal. Robert's cheekbones and blue eyes would be difficult to resist if Arthur weren't always lurking at the back of one's mind looking devastatingly handsome and masculine. 

Naturally, the next time Robert swaggers backstage he's hand in hand with the play's leading lady. Eames' eyes cut directly to Ari, who is clenching her fits and blinking rapidly. His heart simply aches for her. Without thinking, he walks over, puts his arm around her shoulders and asks her to show him how to get some old drape cloths from the janitor's closet. He knows the answer perfectly well, but it takes them out into the hallway and away from the prying eyes of their fellow students. 

It goes against his policy of not getting too involved with his classmate's lives when he can help it. Only this is Ari, possibly Eames' favourite person he's met since arriving in America. He couldn't bear to watch her suffer. 

Once they've rounded the corner, she slumps against the wall and takes a few deep breaths. 

"You knew?" she looks up at him and asks.

Eames shrugs. 

"I'd guessed." 

In his regular life back home, this is the point where he'd let something slip about how he thinks Robert is cute, too. But he's not going to risk that sort of thing with Ari, so instead he reassures her that he doubts anyone else noticed and that her secret is safe with him. 

They walk around for a bit, chatting about nothing much at all, just keeping the conversation going until it seems like enough time has passed that they can head back and Robert will be gone.

"Thanks," she says when they arrive back at the auditorium door, giving him a little hug. 

"Don't mention it," he replies, grinning. He feels he's made a friend, the real kind, his first in America. 

Ari must be thinking something similar, because when Arthur arrives, she invites Eames to join them for supper. From the back seat, Eames can't tell if Arthur looks surprised or dismayed or pleased or reacts at all. But he can't refuse. 

Apparently Ari and Arthur's father travels for work quite frequently, and their mother doesn't seem to be in the picture, which means they often eat at the little diner around the corner from their house. The waitress banters with them in that teasing way that marks them as regular customers. 

Arthur and Ari are utterly adorable together, bickering over who ordered what last time and nicking chips from each others' plates and sips from each others' milkshakes. 

Arthur seems slightly less frightening with his sister than he is with Dom. Probably because Ari is such a nutter and Arthur never mocks her for not caring about girly sorts of things, or for singing dopey folk songs about trees and elves, or for doing an absolutely horrid impression of Christian Bale's Batman voice. Well maybe a bit for that last one, when he's not laughing until his handsome face turns crimson. 

Eames is usually comfortable hiding behind silence in his new foreign student life. But he is suddenly desperate to participate, and also terrified of exposing himself too much if he does. In his nervousness, he unconsciously starts doodling on his paper placemat.

Ari notices his caricature of the two siblings and shrieks with delight. 

"Oh my God, Eames! This is amazeballs!" 

Even Arthur grins at it, showing his boyish dimples. He is bloody adorable. 

"We're framing this," Ari insists. "I'm putting it in the kitchen nook." 

"It's nothing," Eames responds, feeling a blush rising up his neck. "I could do a much nicer one on real paper. Seriously, I think there's a bit of toasted cheese on the corner." 

"That's what makes it so great," she responds. "When you're a famous artist it will be proof that we were really friends. You should ask the newspaper if you can do a weekly cartoon. You could draw little sketches of scenes around the school." 

"Perhaps not," Eames objects. "I don't like to ... " but he's unable to finish the sentence with Arthur sitting right there. 

He means that he doesn't want to draw attention to himself, or to make Dom question his interests, or to risk seeming even more different from the other students here than he already is just by virtue of being foreign. But he's too frightened to say any of those things. 

"Join things?" she asks skeptically. 

Arthur laughs. 

"You really are the perfect fake brother for Dom," he says. 

It both elates Eames and depresses him that he's apparently fooled Arthur so thoroughly. 

"Well at least think about it," Ari persists. "I bet you could do them at home and just turn them in at school without having to stay late more days or whatever." 

"I'll consider it," Eames responds, not wanting her to push any further and risk revealing too much with his answer. He suspects Ari understands more than she's letting on, but he's not sure precisely what. 

When he gets home, he draws a proper picture of Ari and Arthur in his sketchbook. It's the first time he's drawn Arthur and not destroyed it in the fireplace afterward. Dom has a habit of walking into Eames' room to chat and rifling through Eames' things. He doesn't seem to realize that he's being intrusive, probably because he's never had anything to hide himself, so he doesn't suspect that anyone else would, either. But if Ari had asked for it, then it would be OK for Dom to find the drawing. 

A couple of days later Eames gives it to Ari, already matted and ready to put up on a wall, and she hugs him with glee and says she can't wait for their dad to come home so he can see it.

The next afternoon, as Eames exits his maths class, Arthur is leaning against the opposite wall waiting for him, looking effortlessly cool. Eames' heart flips over in his chest, imagining that this is what it would be like if Arthur were his boyfriend and if they could act like the straight couples at the school--kissing in the hallway and walking hand in hand between classes. 

"Are we bunking off early?" he asks, unsure. 

"No I just wanted to ask you something," Arthur responds. "Let's go out to the smoking hill."

Eames' chest is tight. He cannot possibly fathom what Arthur wants to discuss. But he's terrified that somehow Arthur has discovered his crush and plans to confront Eames about it, perhaps he even wants to fight--not that Eames knows how, unless one counts stage fencing, which Arthur surely does not. 

When they get to the hill, Arthur chats with a few of their classmates waits until the bell rings and the smokers go inside. Then he turns to Eames and says, "I know Dom likes to joke about it, or whatever, but seriously are you into my sister?" 

"What?!" Eames is so surprised by the question that he isn't able to hide how shocked he is, which will likely set off some alarm bells in a straight, red-blooded, American boy like Arthur, who is probably used to seeing every attractive girl he meets as a potential pull. 

Arthur gives him an odd, searching look. Eames feels dizzy. 

"No, it's not like that," Eames says. "We just hang out a bit when we are working on the play set. There's nothing more. She's ... er ... she's too young for me?" But it comes out more like a question than a statement and is hardly convincing. 

For the first time since Eames met him, Arthur looks confused. 

"It's ... it's OK if you like her, I just wanted to tell you to be nice to her if you were going to ask her out. I didn't mean to ... you don't have to lie to me. OK yeah maybe I wanted to scare you a little, but also to tell you that it's OK as long as you're respectful."

Fuck, fuck, fuck, this whole situation is a nightmare. 

"I'm being honest. Do I seem like someone who is lying?" 

"I don't know _what_ you seem like right now."

"I'm someone who was completely taken aback by an unexpected question." 

"You gave her that drawing." 

"She asked me to. I enjoy drawing. I would have done the same for anyone." 

"You came with us to dinner." 

"Again, she invited me. And you and I are friendly. It didn't seem significant to me at the time. Also, she ... " 

Eames bites his lip and debates whether to reveal Ari's crush on Robert or keep it secret, since Arthur is obviously ignorant of it or he wouldn't be interrogating Eames about this subject. Finally he decides to tell the truth. He feels guilty for breaking his promise to Ari, but his self-protective instinct is winning out against his desire to be a good friend.

" ... she was upset that day during stagecraft because ... I promised I wouldn't tell anyone, but she fancies Robert Fischer and he turned up with his new girlfriend, whatsit, um, Mandy Lincoln, and Ari was ... unhappy about it and I helped her find a reason to leave on an errand so that Robert wouldn't notice. I think she invited me to supper to thank me."

Arthur is grimacing. 

"Fischer? I thought she'd have better taste than that douchebag." 

"Please don't tell her I told you," Eames pleads. "I swore down that I'd keep it secret." 

Arthur considers this for a moment. 

"Yeah OK, but just ... if she brings it up again, try to tell her that Robert sucks or something. She's way too good for him." 

"Yeah all right. I'll ... uh ... I'll do that." 

"Sorry if I was, you know, aggro with you," Arthur says, and he's grinning with his dimples again. 

"Don't mention it," Eames responds, relief flooding his body as they turn and walk back toward the school, already 10 minutes late for next period.


	3. Hayride

Dom's drug connection from up north comes through a few days before the hayride and Eames has to act as an ambassador going between Dom and Arthur and Mallorie, setting up a plan to which everyone can agree. 

Mallorie wants to just buy the hash off of Dom.

Dom refuses to sell, insisting Mallorie attend the hayride event with him. 

Arthur demands that they make something edible for the event, because he is an athlete and doesn't want to hurt his lungs. 

In the end, Eames is able to negotiate a ridiculously convoluted strategy. 

Arthur picks Eames on Saturday afternoon and brings him back to his house to do the baking with Ariadne, who is apparently an ace at it. Arthur, sadly, leaves straight away, as he has to attend some sort of assembly to show off the school's sporting stars to the community. 

Dom is at home washing his truck and procuring hay and blankets for them all to lounge about on at the park where this hayride will take place--although everyone says that no one will actually be doing any hayriding, as it is apparently desperately uncool and only for small children. Eames doesn't really understand why they're making such a fuss over this thing if the main event, so to speak, is no good. He supposes he'll see. 

"I'll come scoop you guys later, OK?" Arthur says, leaving Eames off on the kerb of his house. 

"OK good luck at your … rally, is that right?" 

Arthur chuckles. 

"No luck needed. It's just a chance for the old people who grew up here to remember the best years of their lives. Kind of pathetic, really."

Arthur may be one of the school's heroes, but he certainly doesn't seem to be into it for the glory. 

Eames knocks on the door and hears Ariadne's voice calling him to "come right in." 

He's never been properly inside their house before, so he feels kind of odd entering and trying to find the kitchen on his own. But he locates Ariadne quickly by following the sound of old folk music playing out of some tinny speakers. 

She's sitting at a kitchen table behind a mountain of aprons. 

"You can't cook in this house without wearing one, so take your pick," she says. 

Eames sorts through the selection, looking for the most-masculine option. If he weren't afraid of word getting back to Arthur, he'd select the frilliest, floweriest apron on offer and wear it with good humor. But he can't risk Arthur finding out. It would be too embarrassing. 

"Why do you have so many?" he asks, buying time as he searches the pile. 

"Our mom collected them. She had a bakery. Fern, you know, from the diner, was her business partner before she died." 

"I'm so sorry, Ariadne. I didn't realise." 

Eames feels his heart breaking for young Arthur and Ariadne. No wonder he's so protective of her. 

"It's funny to be around someone who doesn't know about it already. I was super young. I barely remember her. I mean a little, but … not like Arthur does. So I kind of, you know, cling to the things I recall the best, like these," she gestures to the aprons. "The three of us used to bake something every Sunday, even though I was too little to do much but watch." 

"Why don't you pick one for me," he says, gesturing across the many aprons laid out across the table. "Whichever is your favorite." 

She picks a long navy blue polkadot one with green and white trim. It comes down to Eames' knees as he ties it around his waist. 

"That's actually Arthur's favorite," she says. "But I thought it would look good on you." 

Instantly Eames feels a heady sense of excitement at wearing something Arthur has put on his own body, something he loves. 

Ariadne grins at him and pulls on an orange and pink floral number with lace trim. 

"This is my favorite, I wasn't about to give it up." 

Eames doesn't know much about cookery, but Ariadne is clearly in her element and guides them easily through baking a batch of tiny round chocolate cakes with a mint glaze and a batch of buttery shortbread biscuits, both infused with Dom's pungent hash. 

Eames wonders that Arthur doesn't seem to mind that she clearly has experience doing this, but yet he tries to shield her from interested boys. It doesn't quite make sense, but he supposes getting baked is a lot less likely to get Ariadne hurt than having her heart broken by some heel. Not that Eames would ever break a girl's heart if he was capable of fancying them. He wishes Arthur knew that, but he supposes he's grateful that Arthur backed off and believed Eames' pleas of innocence as to intentions toward his sister. 

Arthur returns as dusk is falling, cheeks rosy from either sun or excitement, Eames isn't sure, and his hair is tousled from being out in the wind. He looks gorgeous. Eames is so stunned by Arthur's beauty that he's almost entirely silent as the three of them walk to the park where everyone is gathering. How can he possibly act normal around Arthur when just looking at him makes Eames' chest seize up? 

When they arrive, Dom and Mallorie are already there. He's setting up big blocks of hay and covering them with chequered picnic blankets. She's standing nearby, looking uneasy. Eames immediately goes and takes up one of her crossed arms and walks them away from Dom's truck. He feels like he can breathe away from Arthur, and he knows Dom will be grateful for someone entertaining Mallorie while he works. 

"Mallorie, luv, do try not to look quite so murderous. I've gone to an awful lot of trouble setting this up for you," he says. 

"Eames, this is too provincial. I cannot stand it. How is this my life now?" 

Eames sympathizes. He's had similar thoughts many since he'd arrived, although with less frequency of late, he's happy to note. 

"Just imagine you're on holiday in the countryside, playing shepherdess. I'm sure Ari would scare you up a Bo Peep costume from the theater if you asked nicely." 

Mallorie just scowls at him. 

"So you're comparing me to Marie Antoinette?"

"Let's just say I think you'd tell this lot to eat cake in a heartbeat. Speaking of, Ari has baked some delicious-looking ones. You'll feel better when you get a taste of one."

She actually smiles at this and Eames considers it a win. 

"You know," he adds. "This town isn't what I'd hoped for, either. But Dom would do anything to win your attention. You should give him a chance."

What he doesn't add is how jealous it makes him, how he'd love to know what it feels like inspire that kind of devotion in someone, to be so adored and wanted. 

She gives him a long, assessing look. It chills Eames down to his toes with fear that she's got his number and is going to say something aloud. But she let's it pass.

"At the very least, have a chat with Ari. She's lovely. I think you'd really get on."

"She is very adorable. And she does not seem boring. Do you have a crush on her?"

Apparently Eames is paranoid, assuming everyone can see through his feelings for Arthur, but people just see what they expect to and everyone, even Mallorie, imagines he fancies Ari. He's both relieved and disheartened at once. 

"No, no. We're just mates. I just think you'd be amused by her." 

He's turns and beckons Ari over to join them. She comes bounding up holding out a box of her baking. Mallorie graciously accepts a biscuit and her face lights up with genuine pleasure for the first time since Eames met her when she takes a bite. 

Ari laughs, tells Mallorie that she thinks she inherited her mother's touch with butter and sugar and then shows Mallorie a picture on her mobile from earlier of she and Eames in their aprons.

Ari is some sort of social genius. Or maybe she just feels enough at home here to maneuver other people into comfort. 

Eames sometimes feels jealous of her, but then others he thinks that he often served a similar role in his social scene back at home before things with his friends started getting complicated. It's only that everything is so different here and he's constantly on the back foot, unsure of doing or saying the wrong thing. But Ari is slowly chipping away at his shell and he's confident she can do the same for Mallorie. After all, he's now doing caricatures for the student newspaper, in addition to his work in the scenic department. And he bloody loves it. He should always listen to Ari, he decides then and there. 

His reverie is interrupted as he hears Mallorie mention his name. 

" ... only trying to pair me off with Dominic, too?" 

Ari's eyebrows raise to her hairline, an expression Eames has watched Arthur make many times. 

"Me? I don't give a damn about matchmaking. ... Well at least not for Dom Fucking Cobb. I just think you seem interesting and Eames says you're cool and I trust his word implicitly, despite his taste in host brothers," she says with a wink and an elbow to Eames' ribs. 

"You can't blame me," he responds. "It's in my own best interest to avoid having him mope about at home asking me how to pronounce words in French." 

The night falls quickly and there are children running around shrieking with bags of popcorn and homemade caramels, chased by harried-looking mothers. An old horse-pulled wagon filled with hay drives them out into the darkness while a woman dressed as a scarecrow and a man as an apothecary tell scary stories. Beneath a tent, a folk band plays. 

It all makes Eames miss Naomi with ferocity. If this sort of thing happened at home, he and Naomi would definitely have participated--costumes, songs, characters, the whole bit. She's the only of his friends from England about whom he hadn't had conflicted feelings when he left and he's done a rather rubbish job of keeping in touch with her despite that. It's only that it's so impossible to describe this place to someone who hasn't experienced it. Still, he promises to himself to do better. 

By the time he's consumed two biscuits and a little cake, Eames is just zoned enough on hash to flop down next to Arthur on a big square of hay and grin at him stupidly. 

"I wore your apron," he says. 

Arthur smiles back. 

"Our mom's apron, actually," he says. 

Eames can feel the moment turning somber. Shit, why did he say something so monumentally stupid? 

"I'm so sorry, Arthur. I didn't know about your mum."

Arthur shrugs. 

"It was a long time ago. I mean, I'm still sad about it. I'll probably always be sad about it. But, it isn't something we can't, like, talk about because it's too ... raw or whatever. Ari loves those aprons. I'm glad you liked my favorite one, too." 

"Ari picked it for me, actually," Eames says and then immediately berates himself, because now it probably sounds as if he doesn't like the apron. 

But Arthur merely rolls his eyes and shakes his head at this response and Eames doesn't know what it means. Some sort of private joke between siblings, he supposes. 

"It's weird to hang out with someone who doesn't already know about her," Arthur says, face wistful. 

"Your sister said the same thing."

"Yeah it's really weird for her, because she's used to being around all these people who remember our mom even though she doesn't recall too much. At least I remember her on my own. It makes it easier somehow, even though you'd think it'd be the opposite way around." 

It's probably the most-serious and thoughtful thing Eames has ever heard Arthur say. His heart flutters at being privy to such personal information. He has to school his face not to smile. 

"Well she seems to have inherited your mum's skill in the kitchen," he says, trying to keep things light. 

Arthur's smile is dazzling. 

"Fuck yeah she did. But she got my dad's handiness with tools, too. Basically she can make anything--from cookies to a treehouse." 

"And what did you inherit then?" Eames asks, and is immediately seized with terror the moment the words slip out of his mouth. Did he sound too flirty? 

"Nothing probably," Arthur shrugs, but he's still smiling. "Everyone used to say I was just like my grandpa on my mom's side, but then he divorced my grandma and now people don't say that anymore."

Why does Eames keep bringing up sad things? What is wrong with him?

"I'm sorry," he says again, feeling like he doesn't have anything else to offer. 

"Don't worry about it. My grandma seems much happier now. She lives in a condo down in Texas. That's where she grew up before she married my grandpa. We go visit her every year at Thanksgiving."

"What about your grandfather? Do you visit him, too?"

"Not really. Sometimes he will come into town, but he isn't very interested in us anymore now that he's married again. He's always been a bit of a ladies man, hence the divorce."

Eames must be even further off his head than he thought, because he blurts out: "is that why people say you're alike then?"

Arthur just laughs in response and says nothing. 

Eames' face is hot with embarrassment. He doesn't know how to get out of this line of questioning. What the hell had he been thinking saying a thing like that?

"I did get in a little bit of trouble down there last year on that front, now that you mention it, but that was way after everyone stopped comparing me to him."

Eames is mortified. He's long suspected Arthur was having it off with someone somewhere, but now that he's confronted with the information, he finds he really doesn't want to know more. 

"Got caught sneaking a person into my room," Arthur says, and gives Eames a long, almost challenging look. 

He probably expects Eames to tease and doubt his conquests, as Dom probably would, but Eames doesn't have the heart to play along. He stares at the tips of his trainers, probably seeming like he is either repressed or thick.

"Are you going to go skiing with the Cobbs at Christmas," Arthur asks, mercifully changing the subject. 

"I suppose, if that's what they do. Never been myself."

"They took me last year for New Year's. Was the best time of my life. Got invited to hang with the ski instructors every night. You'll have a blast. Although Dom kept striking out with this girl he liked."

Eames smiles sheepishly.

"Well I suppose I will need instruction, having never done it before, er, you know skied, having never skied" he says realizing he'd sounded more like a pathetic virgin than an inexperienced skier. "My family likes a beach holiday. My mum hates the snow."

"Ari hates cold, too. It doesn't even get that cold here, but she complains like she's in goddamned Alaska or something. I swear when she gets out of here, she's going to move someplace hot and dry as hell."

"You don't think she'll stay?" Eames asks. "Everyone here seems to."

"Dom will go to college and come back and run the family grocery for sure. But Ari and I are getting the fuck out of here. I mean, I'm not sorry to have grown up here, but there is no way I could live here as an adult. For so many reasons," he's giving Eames that challenging look again, as if he thinks his will to escape will he doubted. 

"Is that why you're so protective of Ari?" Eames asks, remembering Arthur's big brother scare-them-off routine when he'd thought Eames fancied his sister.

Arthur shrugs, smirking knowingly. 

"Maaaaybe? What do you think?" he says, grinning lopsidedly at Eames, causing his heart to nearly flip straight out of his chest, like a goldfish that's escaped the bowl.

"Maybe?" he repeats back, swaying slightly under the force of those dimples. He isn't even sure what's so amusing about his question. He's probably making some dumb face, or looking particularly out of it, but he can't even be bothered to be embarrassed.

"Tell me something," Eames asks, emboldened by this happy feeling. "If you're so scared of your sister fancying a boy, then why don't you care about her budding career as an edibles baker?"

Arthur collapses into a fit of giggles at Eames' unintentional pun with the word budding and Eames tumbles after him, unable to resist the sound of Arthur's laughter. Out of breath, he reaches over and clutches Arthur's shoulder with one hand, gasping in his mirth. 

Fuck. Why did he just do that? Shit, shit, shit.

His heart is beating wildly. It isn't as if the gesture was in any way sexual or romantic--although it might be more feminine than it should under the circumstances. But he's never touched Arthur aside from a couple of fist bumps and he isn't sure he can control the shivery feeling it sends running down his spine.

He leaps up off his cube of hay, says something about having to use the loo, and stumbles off blindly into the night, absolutely mortified. 

He ends up in an interminable and dull conversation with a girl from his maths class, Sophie something or other, until Ari rescues him in time to catch a ride home in Dom's truck, where he sits quietly in the rear seat as his host brother makes endearingly awkward conversation with Mallorie in the front.


	4. Midterms

After the disastrous hayride, Eames is lucky that the whole school is thrust into the chaos of midterm examinations and he has a brief reprieve from socializing. 

He studies diligently at home after school every day for a week. Even Dom buckles down and tries to be a good student for once, asking Eames for help with his world history and biology courses. 

Eames wonders if Arthur, who gets perfect marks, despite never seeming to study, is at home with his nose in his books. More likely he's at home playing video games and being naturally perfect. 

The Friday after his last exam, Eames is relieved to return to scenic painting, something he knows how to do without constant second guessing. He's even bold enough to let slip that he's seen this play before and suggest the school use a design element from that other production to convey added space on their small stage. Eames is immediately nervous that people will raise eyebrows at his admission of previous theatrical experience, but no one bats an eye. They seem to take it as part and parcel of his Englishness. 

Ari pulls him into an empty classroom on their way out to meet Arthur at his car. He's nervous enough already and her unexpected actions have him terrified that she's about to turn the tables and warn him off her brother.

So when she asks, "what do you think of Sophie Jones?" he erupts into completely inappropriate laughter. 

"Not interested, huh?" She asks, turning his importune outburst into a blessing in disguise, saving him the trouble of manufacturing a lie. "She thought you were flirting with her at the hayride."

"Oh my days, no. I was just too off my head to figure out how to extract myself from the conversation. She nattered on and on and on," he says truthfully. 

"She's really pretty though. And she's smart. Second in the class after Arthur."

"I suppose she is," Eames replies, trying to sound magnanimous rather than uncertain. "But I just find her too annoying."

"Well what should I tell her?" 

Eames feels his eyes widen in panic.

"How the bloody hell should I know? Why do you have to tell her anything at all?"

"I could tell her you already like someone else?" Ari says and looks at him studiously. 

Wait, is she coming on to Eames? Is this whole thing a trap?

"Ari, I already told your brother I'm not interested," he says stupidly, trying to pin the blame for his lack of reciprocation on Arthur's meddling. 

Her face falls and he feels like a monster. 

"There's too much of an age difference," he says, attempting to soften the blow, even though it's absurd. 

Yes she's 14 and he 17, but it's hardly something that doesn't apply to half the couples in the school. 

She cocks her head and looks at him consideringly, as if she's debating whether or not to argue with his statement. But she surprises him by shrugging and smiling. 

"Don't worry about it," she says. "I don't really like you, either. I just thought you might distract me from Robert, who is such an asshole. A gorgeous one, but still."

"Yeah your brother isn't so happy about that, either. He called Robert a douche, I believe it was."

"You told!" 

"I had no choice. Arthur was about to fight me for your honor!"

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head disappointedly. 

"He is such an idiot."

The ride home is uneventful, with Arthur making no mention of Eames' spastic behavior the last time they saw each other at the hayride, simply smiling and waving when he leaves Eames at the Cobbs' front step. 

But after that Ari starts inviting Eames to supper at the diner at least once a week. Eames is a bit nervous to accept considering she may or may not have feelings for him, it's all very confusing. But in the end, he can resist the pull of Arthur's orbit.

And he continues to feel that that Arthur is much less frightening away from Dom and their years of friendship and their casual, uncalculated masculinity. 

Not that Arthur is suddenly prone to discussing musical theater or poetry. But they way he listens adoringly to his sister's enthusiasm for embarrassing subjects like her favourite series of novels about singing dragons and warrior elves or her collection of polished minerals shows a tolerance for oddness that Eames never would have guessed at when Arthur is around his best friend. 

Ari even starts openly discussing her ongoing crush on Robert, although Eames is sure that it's for his benefit, seeing as it makes Arthur scrunch up his face and pretend to retch every time. 

Regardless, he finds that between his scenic painting and his sketches for the newspaper and his meals at the diner, he's come to enjoy his life in California. 

He owes it all to Ari and it sometimes makes him quite sad that he can't simply will himself to have romantic feelings for her, as she's quite perfect, other than being the wrong gender.

But somehow she doesn't seem to mind a bit, having taken his rejection in that deserted classroom in a stride. If it even was a rejection at all. He's still not quite sure what happened, honestly. 

Ari and Arthur leave school for the Thanksgiving holiday a day early, heading off for Texas and their grandmother. 

Eames isn't quite sure what possesses him, but when he and Dom drop Arthur at home after bunking out of school and lounging around in an almond grove, he shouts after him: "don't get in trouble this time!" 

He's shocked when Arthur blushes beet red and trips on his front steps in response.


	5. Thanksgiving

The weekend starts out with a mad rush. Eames doesn't usually get called on to help at the Cobb family grocery, but in preparation for the absolutely massive amount of eating everyone in town is planning to do, the whole household is required to prepare the shop.

Dom usually works at the there on Saturday mornings and Sunday afternoons, learning the family business. It's been in operation in one form or another for close to a century and there are adorable photos of Cobbs through the decades, as well as old advertisements from back when it was a vegetable stand, all framed and posted throughout the premises. 

Mrs. Cobb ordinarily insists that Eames doesn't have to contribute, saying it isn't fair to use up his study abroad experience putting him to work. He's grateful for her consideration, although the fact that he generally lounges about at home waiting for Dom to be free to drive them someplace does sort of defeat the point of her kindness. 

However, with the holiday looming, she asks if he wouldn't mind and, of course, he doesn't. All Wednesday evening and Thursday morning Eames restocks cans of broth and bags of cranberries and ears of corn and cartons of Brussels sprouts and mountains of potatoes until his shoulders are sore. 

Meanwhile, Dom's gran is in the kitchen at home preparing an endless supply of food, enough to feed and entire army. 

She's visting from Palm Springs and Eames is absolutely dying to ask her questions about Old Hollywood and whether it is still a glamorous getaway. But Dom insists it is the most-dull location on the planet and Eames is too afraid to broach the subject. 

She is an amazing cook, and the Thanksgiving feast lives up to its reputation, although Eames doesn't particularly care for the candied yams with marshmallows. 

He falls asleep early that night and has a lie in followed by a lazy day of eating and faffing about on Friday. By Saturday, Eames is restless enough to suggest that they invite Mallorie round. 

"She's probably bored out of her skull," he tells Dom. "Enough so that she'll jump at the chance to get out of the house." 

For all that Eames privately gripes to himself about Dom, he's greatful to have another person his age around the house to draw him into social events. Poor Mallorie has a host sister who is just 10 and must get awfully lonely. He's right, of course. When he rings and asks her if she'd like to come over and watch a film, she isn't shy about accepting, offering to have her host family drive her over straightaway.  

All of Dom's DVDs are horrid, naturally. But Eames convinces him to raid his parent's collection and watch Vertigo. Her face lights up when Dom "suggests" it as they settle in front of the telly in the lounge.

Mr.and Mrs. Cobb greet her briefly and retire to bed very early. Eames suddenly feels as if he's intruding on a date, although he knows for a fact that Mallorie wants him to stay, as she makes a point of sitting beside him on the sofa, not Dom. 

Dom takes it in a stride, somehow never doubting that she and Eames are just friends. It must be their mutual foreignness, because he certainly doesn't suspect the real reason Eames isn't a threat. 

After the film ends, they move to the verandah where Mallorie can smoke and go on at length about the beauty of San Francisco. 

Eames holds his breath, terrified Dom will say something derogatory about the city's gay friendly reputation, but instead he talks about visiting Alcatraz prison with his family when he was younger and his father nearly destroying the car on one of the very steep hills. 

Dom convinces her to stay and watch another film. He proposes some horrid Sean Connery option, but Eames saves the day yet again by intervening and choosing another cinema classic starring Jimmy Stewart: The Philadelphia Story.

Dom wonders aloud he knows so much about old films and Mallorie springs to his defence, saying that it's nice to know some boys have good taste. 

It almost seems as if the two are flirting. Just to be sure, Eames lingers in the kitchen, giving Mallorie time to change seats, which she indeed does, choosing to join Dom on the floor, where they share a blanket and perch on two of the giant pillows scattered throughout the room. 

The bad news is that Dom falls asleep during the film. The good news is that Mallorie lets his head come to rest on her shoulder and doesn't push him away. She stays awake and alert and seems to enjoy the on screen hijinks as much as Eames does. 

Afterward, they talk a bit about his love of classic American cinema and he promises to give  her some more recommendations. Then they rouse Dom who acts awkward and embarrassed about dozing off in front of his crush. 

Eames hangs back and tells Dom to drive her home alone, hoping that she'll allow a goodnight kiss. 

When Dom returns he barges into Eames' room, effusive and Eames thinks it was a success. But, no. Dom is this excited about a quick, one-armed hug in his truck. 

Eames should mock Dom, but who is he to think that pathetic? He who'd practically fainted when he'd touched Arthur's shoulder.

The last day before they go back to school Eames spends dawing almond trees and artichoke field on his best sketch paper to mail to Naomi. He tells her life her is strange, and that he can't describe it with words, but that at least he can show her what it looks like. He includes rejected versions of his newspaper sketches, as well as an early draft of his drawing for Ariadne. He knows she'll guess at his feelings for Arthur without his having to state them explicitly.


	6. Back to School

Eames is nervous to see Arthur again on Monday afternoon during health class. As near as he can tell, Arthur hadn't remembered sharing the story of his Texan conquest when they'd spoken during the hayride and was embarrassed to realize what he'd revealed when Eames had mentioned it the week prior. 

Eames hopes Arthur isn't cross. But he hopes even more that Arthur isn't sporting some kind of healthy glow caused by six days of no-strings-attached sex with some girl who wears sundresses and cowboy boots all year round. 

Eames tries not to scrutinize Arthur too closely for any signs of romantic trysts as he moves to join him at their usual table. 

Arthur grins up at him and Eames very nearly trips on his own feet, so unprepared was he for the power those dimples have to turn his insides to absolute goo.

"Dom won't shut up about how you hooked him up with Mallorie over the break. Nice."

Eames can't help from rolling his eyes in response. 

"Hardly. She hugged him. But I did invite her round and save Dom from himself when it came to selecting a film to watch with her. Honestly, do you think Mallorie would have lasted five minutes into This is the End?"

Arthur laughs. 

"Jesus what an idiot. I swear he doesn't deserve her."

"He probably doesn't, no. But what are mates for?"

Arthur gets a shrewd look in his eye. 

"You could swoop in and steal her. You've done all the work so far, after all."

Eames is aghast. It must show on his face

"Relax. I'm joking. I just think Dom ought to be a little worried that you're the one setting up all the dates with his would-be girl."

Eames' heart is racing. Is he being tested? And for what? For loyalty or for heterosexuality? 

"Like I said, anything for a mate. I would never steal someone's girlfriend. Christ, Arthur."

Thank God Arthur looks contrite. 

"Calm down, Eames. I know you wouldn't. I just think Dom might need someone to light a fire under his ass, you know? He can't depend on you to do all the work for him. Are you going to ask her to prom for him, too? Sit in the front seat while they make out? Ask her if she's on 'le pill' for him?"

Eames laughs despite himself. 

"They'll fall in love and then I'll get down on one knee and ask her to marry Dom," he jokes.

"She'll get pregnant and you'll be in the delivery room cutting the cord while he waits outside smoking."

"I'll walk little Dominic Jr. to his first day of school."

They're giggling like maniacs when the teacher strides in and hushes the room. Even minutes into the start of class, Eames only has to look in Arthur's direction before they are both shaking with silent laughter. 

He's so fucked. It was bad enough when Arthur was merely gorgeous and mysterious. Now that Eames knows how much fun Arthur can be, he's never going to get past it. 


	7. Early December

The play is set to open in two weeks and everything is absolute chaos. Eames works in the scenic department every day after school and even pitches in at the costume shop, helping to pin the actors into their clothes for final alterations. 

He doesn't even feel self conscious about it, because the sense of urgency is so great and he isn't the only bloke about the place regardless. He does pretend not to know how to sew a button when Josie Peters needs help fixing one of Mandy's skirts, however.

It turns out that Ari knows nothing about sewing, but she's a quick study, and spends every afternoon learning and perfecting  new skills, because the building portion of set decoration is complete and she's rubbish at painting. 

"I can't believe there's something you don't already know how to make," Eames says as he watches her sew her first bias hem. 

"Just wait. I'm going to buy one of these babies at the antique mall and I'll be making my own wardrobe in no time," she says, patting the side of the old Singer affectionately. 

"I don't doubt it."

"People used to tease me about being so handy with tools," she says. "They said I was too much of a tomboy, then one day in middle school Bobby Nickerson called me a ... well, I'm not going to say it, and Arthur beat the absolute shit out of him."

Eames' heart is thudding rabbit fast in his chest. He isn't totally sure how he he should interpret her remarks. 

"I mean, not that Arthur wouldn't love me no matter who I liked, but that kind of language is completely not cool."

Eames is panicking. Does this mean she knows? Is she trying to tell him she knows? Fuck, fuck, fuck. He can't be sure. He doesn't know how to respond. 

"Uh, yeah. Totally," he stammers out, probably sounding half braindead, but he'd had to say something.

"Of course, Arthur got in a fight with Robert once, too" she says. "That's probably why he still hates him so much. It was when they were in fifth grade. Robert made fun of Dom at soccer practice, back when Dom used to do things after school."

OK so perhaps she's just making conversation. Surely there is no coded message to glean from this story. 

"I can't really imagine Arthur fighting. He's such a laid back sort," Eames replies, although it's a lie. He can absolutely imagine Arthur with his hair toussled by the wind and a smudge of dirt on his face squaring off with Bobby or Robert and looking sunkissed and rugged. 

"These days, yeah. He used to be pretty uptight though when we were little. He got upset about a lot of stuff."

"Because of your mother?" Eames asks delicately.

Ari looks pensive. 

"Maybe. Probably. And some other stuff, too. Secret sibling stuff."

Eames feels overhwelmed with affection for both Ari and Arthur, lucky to call them both friends. Ari talks to him the way no one else in this place does, with a raw honesty that he craves. And Arthur, Arthur makes him laugh. And he's so smart and so very beautiful. 

Eames doesn't know what the rest of his year abroad will hold, but he hopes they are both integral to it. 

He suddenly feels like he might start blubbering and has to awkwardly excuse himself to go to the loo, practically running down the hallway as soon as he's out of Ari's eyeline. 


	8. Full Dress Rehearsal

The afternoon of full dress, the whole cast and crew is dismissed from classes at noontime. 

He and Ari and the rest of the set and costume teams don't have anything to do but serve as audience, provided nothing goes wrong with any of their creations. But there's a loose and carefree feeling in the air as they get to spend the rest of the day in the auditorium whilst everyone else is stuck in class. There is also an unspoken, but tacit, awareness that this is the last day anyone will care much about their efforts. From tomorrow onward it will be all about the actors. And even what little attention is given to crew members will be for the props people and those working sound and lights. 

Part of Eames is a bit jealous, having nearly always been among the actors in this scenario--nervous butterflies in his stomach being slowly overpowered by excitement and confidence from the day of full dress until the moment the curtain goes up on opening night. 

On the positive side, however, it means his group and the costumers are all in a celebratory mood, seizing their meagre chance for attention while it still exists. After the rehearsal, when the actors take calming breaths and head home quietly, not wanting to break the magic of the moment with too much talk, the crew is giddy with excitement and end up sprawled on the grass of the football field, laughing and passing around a few elicit bottles of something strong and sweet as Ari plays her guitar.

Eames is lying on his back, arms behind his head, half singing along with everyone else, half watching the stars, and he realises how happy he feels. His life isn't the constant anxiety of the first few months any longer, but here in this moment, he feels entirely relaxed and mostly himself. 

It's reminiscent of how it had been a few years back before he'd officially told any of his friends about being gay, even Naomi, but after he'd stoped really try to hide it from anyone either. 

He's not totally pissed, but he's much closer than he's allowed himself to get since he's been living here, which is probably why his alarm bells don't sound when, as the crowd starts to thin, Ari lies back next to him and says, "I need to ask you a favour, Eames." 

"Sure, darling, anything," he responds without thinking it through. 

"Will you go to the Christmas dance with me?" 

He sits up so fast his head spins. Fuck! 

He looks down at her and he knows he isn't keeping the pain he feels at her question from his face. He's simply going to have to tell her the truth, not about his pathetic crush on her brother, but the bit about not fancying girls. There's nothing else for it. He can't keep having this same awkward conversation with his favourite person in America over and over again. 

"Ari I ... I don't think that's a good idea." 

She tugs his sleeve to pull herself up next to him, and looks around to make sure no one is listening. 

She leans in very close and whispers: "It isn't like that, Eames. I know how it sounds, but it's not. You have to trust me." 

"What's it like then?" 

"It's a favour. I'm trying to ... Mal is thinking about asking Dom, but she only wants to do it if it's part of a group thing." 

The racing in Eames' heart slows a bit. That sounds reasonable. But there's something she's holding back here. 

"Also ... I happen to know that Sophie is planning to ask you, so I figured ... you'd probably rather go with me as a friend and help out Dom than go with her and be irritated the whole time." 

Well he certainly likes the idea of being spared having to turn Sophie down. Or, even worse, having to go with her. 

"So ... if this were to happen-- _if_ \--how would it work?" 

"Well, I'm thinking we make it very casual and low pressure, so if Mal decides she doesn't want anything to happen with Dom, it'll just be like hanging out. We can go to the diner for dinner, all very ironical, and then the dance, and my dad will be out of town that weekend, so everyone can come back to our house afterward and play video games or have a Christmas movie marathon or something goofy like that. No big deal."

Eames desperately wants to know how Arthur fits into this equation, but he's too afraid of what his voice may give away if he asks. 

She sighs. 

"You can't tell anyone, but it's also kind of a favour to Arthur. Julie Park asked him and he said yes. So if we do this then they can come with us, too, and it'll be less likely that she'll get the wrong idea."

"The wrong idea?" Eames can't stop himself from asking. 

"That he said yes because he's interested and not just because ... he's too polite to say no." 

"Why can't I tell anyone?" 

"Because ... I don't know. Forget I said that. He'd be embarrassed if he knew his baby sis was scheming to get him out of a date he regretted saying yes to." 

Eames is confused. He can't tell if it's the drink or Ari's twisted logic or his own mercurial emotions tonight. He shakes his head in an attempt to clear it. 

"So in this scenario, you and I would be, essentially, chaperoning Mallorie whilst she decides whether or not she fancies Dom? And simultaneously ... chaperoning Arthur to ... shield him from a girl whom he doesn't fancy?"

"Pretty much, yeah. And we can go Dutch at the diner and Arthur will drive us. Or Dom, I guess. Whichever." 

"What happens if Mallorie decides to give it a go with Dom?" 

"Then they go ... somewhere else and we carry on with our night of being goofballs at my house." 

"And what if Arthur changes his mind about Julie and wants to have it off with her after all?" 

He cringes. He should have said something more delicate. This is Arthur's sister after all, and she's only 14 to boot. 

" _He won't._ "

"You don't know that, Ari." 

Arthur might not be interested in Julie in a romantic way as Dom is Mallorie, but there's no reason for him not to decide a bit of a one-off with her would be a fun idea if she's offering. 

She sighs again, sounding extremely put upon. 

"Look, Eames, the chances of that happening are ... really small. I think he likes her about as much as you do Sophie." 

Eames doubts that's true. But he can't very well explain to Ari why that's the case. Not here and now anyway. Possibly not ever. 

"Then why on earth did he say yes? I'm fairly certain loads of girls fancy Arthur. A better offer surely would have come along." 

"Not the one he wants." 

Eames' heart stops beating for a few ticks. 

Arthur fancies someone? This cannot be possible. Arthur has never demonstrated real affection for anyone but his own sister and possibly for Dom. Eames knows he'd shagged that girl in Texas, and quite likely some others as well. But Arthur has never given any indication of being inclined toward romance of any kind. He's crude about sex and laughs at the hearts in Dom's eyes with Mallorie's name on them. 

The part of Eames that isn't busy being shocked is flooded with relief. Arthur may be quietly and secretly pining away for someone, but whomever she is, she's apparently off limits to him, probably already in a relationship. 

He wonders if it isn't Mandy Lincoln. Perhaps that's why Arthur hates Robert so damned much. 

"And what if ... " he desperately doesn't want to ask, but he feels he should lay the cards on the table, just to be certain. "What if you change your mind ... and decide that you fancy me again?" 

Ari laughs and Eames relaxes. 

"Not going to happen. Now what you should be worried about is what if a miracle happens and you-know-who gets dumped sometime in the next two weeks. In that case, I reserve the right to ask him and leave you to go stag." 

"More than fair," Eames responds. 

"So is that a yes?" 

"May I think about it?" 

She rolls her eyes at him fondly, the same as he's seen her do to Arthur a hundred times. 

"Sure. It's not like I have anyone else to ask. Unless, of course, that miracle occurs. Talk about it with Mal if you want."

"Should I talk about it with your brother? Is he going to get protective again? Do I need his blessing to do him a favour as your date?" 

Eames is mostly joking, but a little bit serious. He doesn't want another misunderstanding with Arthur, not after he'd sworn that he was not interested in his sister that way. 

"Nah. Leave him to me."

Arthur comes to pick them up at 11, and Eames is suddenly all nerves around him in a way he hasn't been in months. Knowing that Arthur secretly fancies someone makes Eames simultaneously overcome with jealousy and curiosity. 

Luckily, Ari is drunk enough at this point to be babbling excitedly the whole way to Eames' house and he doesn't have to contribute much aside from laughter and a few shared glances in the mirror with Arthur, each of which sets his heart racing. 

He's inclined to accept Ari's offer, but wants to confirm the plan with Mallorie first, more out of courtesy to her than any doubts about the authenticity of Ari's claims. 

However, the next day he's miles away, thinking about a new sketch for the newspaper, as he walks to maths class and doesn't notice Sophie moving toward him until it's much to late to avoid her. 

"Hey, Eames, how's it going?" 

"Lovely. How are you?" 

"Well I was ... uh, wondering if I could talk to you for a sec before math."

Buggering fuck. Ari was right. In the plus column this probably means she's right about her other promises, such as Arthur not having the least interest in Julie. But at the moment, he desperately wishes to be anywhere but here. 

He gives her a brusque nod, indicating she should proceed. He hopes it might scare her off, but she forges ahead determinedly. 

"Well, do you think ... I ... would you be able to ... Would you like to go to the Christmas dance with me?" 

He musters the sort of friendly smile he'd offer a friend of his mum's or a nice old lady on the bus. 

"I'm awfully sorry, Sophie, but I'm already going with Ariadne," he replies, trying to look disappointed, but not devastated. 

She looks crestfallen.

"Uh ... oh. Sorry, I didn't know. She told me she didn't ... nevermind. I OK, thanks anyway," she says and rushes into the classroom. 

Eames can't help feeling a bit sorry for her despite his relief at having Ari's invitation to fall back on. He's fairly certain that he wouldn't have had the strength to reject her without it. 

He doesn't have a mobile phone of his own here in America, so he can't text Ari and apprise her of the situation. He only hopes she won't act surprised if she hears about his acceptance third-hand before he can locate her in the halls between classes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At my school the Winter Holiday Dance was girl-ask-bky, so I made it the case here, too (although in this town they definitely just say Christmas Dance). I don't know how universal that is, but I thought I'd note it in case of any confusion.


	9. The Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been completely MIA for, well basically all year. Forgive me. Some shitty life stuff intervened.

Ari insists that she and Eames ride a bus to an enormous consignment warehouse outside of town to find clothes for the dance. 

It's magnificent. Eames can hardly believe he's been living so close to such a place for months now and never knew it existed. 

He's not sure why Ari didn't ask Arthur to drive them here, but perhaps Arthur hates shopping. 

Eames is strangely glad that it's an adventure for just the two of them, so he doesn't have to worry about how to behave in front of Arthur and can just enjoy the magic of the place.

They spend hours poring though the racks looking for outfits that are hilarious and yet also not too ugly. In the end, Ari is bolder than he, selecting a royal blue sequined number with ruffled sleeves that looks straight off of an 1980s soap opera set. Eames picks a very 1970s professorial tan corduroy three piece suit with elbow patches that he thinks actually makes his arse look quite nice, not that anyone will notice. 

Afterward they drink frothy frozen coffees and Eames sketches some of their schoolmates into the funniest clothes from the shop. Ari convinces him he should submit drawings of current students dressed in formal clothes from different decades to the paper in advance of the dance. He loves the suggestion and has some ideas about who will best fit into each era. 

On the ride home, she pulls out one of her nutty fantasy books and reads. On the cover, a girl in a flowing gown brandishes a flaming sword. Eames sketches Ari in her absurd blue dress holding the same sword. She squeals in happiness when he presents it to her after they alight.

He's not sure how Ari convinced Julie Park to go along with their group plans rather than a more-conventional supper date, but she and Ari and Arthur converge with Eames and Dom and Mal at the diner. Fern has set up a special table for them in the corner with paper flowers and fake candles. 

Julie looks very pretty, if a bit overdone in a bright pink minidress with a sweeping updo and heavy, sex kitten eye makeup. Eames tries not to hate her, but he might be failing. 

Mallorie looks utterly elegant in a simple black silk sheath and pearls. Arthur teases Dom, saying he resembles a door-to-door Bible salesman in the suit he borrowed from his father. They don't look like a pair who will emerge as a couple at the end of the evening, but stranger things have happened, Eames supposes. 

And Arthur ... Arthur looks as if he's trying to convey how little he cares by wearing a skinny black knitted tie and a leather jacket, but what he really looks like is sex on legs. Eames is sure Julie will do absolutely anything to hold his attention.

He tries not to sulk about it. There's nothing to be done. 

Ari helps in that regard. She's planned an elaborate guessing game for them to play at the table. The winner gets to choose which Christmas film they watch first back and her and Arthur's house after the dance. 

Arthur asks if Die Hard counts as a Christmas movie. Ari says yes, but only if Edward Scissorhands does, too. 

Julie volunteers that Love Actually is her favourite and looks at Arthur through her lashes. Eames feels nauseated, but Arthur ignores her entirely. 

Mal says "the one with James Stewart," and Eames agrees and adds Kiss Kiss Bang Bang as an unconventional choice, but no one else has seen it. 

They all look at Dom who squirms uncomfortably, not wanting to embarass himself in front of Mal. 

Eventually Arthur reveals that Dom's favourite is Home Alone and everyone laughs, but Mal and Ari say that it's sweet he loves a children's film so much, so it probably counts as a win. Arthur winks at Dom and his dimples show when he smiles. 

Fern serves heaping trays of chips and fried chicken and finger sandwiches and glasses of sparkling grape juice and peppermint milkshakes. 

They all dutifully write down the answers to Ari's questions and try to guess each other's choices. Eames finds he's quite good at this game, which surprises him. He's learned more about his American friends than he'd realised. Julie is rubbish at it, which pleases Eames more than it should. But Arthur triumphs in the end, and Eames is glad, because it means he's not likely to skive off early from watching his winning movie selection. 

After supper Ari pulls Eames into Arthur's car with her and he's happy for it, preferring that Dom and Mal drive alone together to Arthur and Julie doing so. 

She pulls out a plastic container of biscuits and offers them around, explaining to Julie that they were baked with the remainder of Dom's hash from the hayride. 

Julie complains about feeling fat and demures. Eames takes two. He's going to need all the help he can get. 

Arthur says he'll have one when they arrive at the school. 

Ari and Eames touch their cookies together as if they were clinking glasses and entwine their arms to take a bite. 

Arthur snorts a laugh from the front seat. Julie huffs out a powerful sigh, making it pretty apparent that she regrets agreeing to this group arrangement.

Eames is really feeling the edibles by the time they divest themselves of their coats and arrive at the gym. It looks just like an American high school film, with crepe paper and pompoms and paper flowers strewn everywhere and an overenthusiastic DJ in a purple jacket begging shy couples to take to the floor. 

Eames loves dancing. And he's just toasted enough to not care one whit that most of the other blokes seem to want to avoid it at all costs. 

So far as Eames can tell from across the room, Arthur spends a great deal of time talking with his baseball teammates, to Julie's obvious annoyance.

Dom and Mal dance to quite a number of rhe the slow songs and spend the fast ones chatting in the corner with their heads ducked close together. It looks promising. 

Eames and Ari spend most of their night dancing like maniacs, even attempting a few ballroom moves during the slow numbers. He loves her fiercely as they move in tandem to the music. 

After two hours, the vice principal takes the stage to thank everyone for an evening free of dramatics and introduces the last song. 

Ari and Eames sit on the sidelines rehydrating with some punch. Arthur allows Julie to pull him out on the floor, but looks stiff and unhappy the entire time. Eames would almost feel sorry for her if he weren't so selfishly happy. 

Dom and Mal look miraculously wrapped up in each other holding hands as they whisper. Eames can hardly believe it. He wonders what Dom said to win her over. 

Eames forgets his coat and the air is briskly sobering as they walk to Arthur's car. Ari keeps up a constant stream of talk, as if trying to prevent Julie's bad mood from spreading to the group. 

At the house she pulls Eames into the kitchen to help her make popcorn. Arthur follows them and starts mixing a batch of punch with vodka and cranberry juice and lemonade. Julie hovers in the corner looking out of place and unacknowledged until they all move together into the lounge where Dom and Mal are cuddling on the sofa. 

Eames genuinely feels sorry for her now. It must be awful thinking you had a real shot at Arthur only to be met with such dismissive disdain, perhaps worse then never having a chance with him at all.

Eames can't even look Arthur in the eye, wondering what he's playing at with his coldness toward Julie. Why did he accept her invitation? Has she done something wrong? Is this how Arthur treats people who displease him? Does Eames need to fear getting on Arthur's bad side if he steps wrong?

Everyone clinks plastic cups of Arthur's punch, although Arthur passes the his to Ari after an initial sip and Dom hands his to Mal. Both still need to drive, after all. 

Eames isn't sure who will be taking him home under present circumstances, but tries not to worry about it. 

He can always call Mrs. Cobb for a ride if needs must. She'd been sure to tell both boys that before they'd left to pick up Mal earlier that night. 

Despite being stiff and cold since they'd arrived at the dance, Arthur seems to soften as the film progresses. He and Ari both clearly love it and laugh and quote their favorite bits in anticipation. 

Eames has only seen it once prior, but enjoys the tightness of the script and is impressed by Bruce Willis and, especially, by Alan Rickman. Even Mal is laughing and clapping in delight by the end. 

After the credits roll, Ari and Arthur argue good naturedly about what to watch next, with Arthur favoring Die Hard 3 and Ari Edward Scissorhands. 

Julie surprises everyone by saying they should watch Eames' selection. Ari buys it on her father's Amazon account, waiving off all of Eames' promises to reimburse her for it. 

But then 10 minutes into the film, Julie asks Arthur to take her home, saying she doesn't care for for the story's dark tone. 

She's a cunning girl and Eames hates her again.

After they leave, the remainder of the group agrees to pause the film until Arthur returns. Eames is a bit relieved, honestly, because he'd sort of forgotten what a prominent role Val Kilmer's character's sexuality plays in the film and is nervous that the others are judging him insufficiently masculine in some way for liking it so much. 

Nevertheless, Eames is on edge every moment Arthur is away. 

He's nervous that Arthur and Julie are working out the tension between them in Arthur's back seat. If two people as awkwardly suited as Dom and Mal can get together, then surely Arthur and Julie can overcome whatever hurdles are preventing them from finding romance, or at least sexual fulfillment, in one another. 

He's kicking himself for ever feeling cross or confused by Arthur's mercurial behavior throughout the evening. He should never have felt sorry for Julie even for a single moment, not now that she's alone with Arthur in his car and Eames is here reassuring a nervous-looking Dom that he'll find his own way home.

"I'm sure Arthur will be home soon," Ari insists. "And Eames can always crash here if Arthur isn't up to driving later."

Eames' heart leaps into his throat at Ari's words. Staying the night at Arthur's house? He desperately wants to do so and is simultaneously filled with terror at the prospect. 

How could he possibly sulk and cry to himself over Arthur's no-doubt just-concluded tryst with Julie if he's here at Arthur's house? On the other hand, in the morning he might be able to see Arthur all sleep rumpled in his pyjamas at breakfast, which seems like it would be a rare and delightful opportunity.

"No worries, Dom, we'll work it out, yeah?" he says, trying to sound confident. 

Dom looks relieved. 

Mal thanks him in French and kisses him on the cheek. 

He's not going to be able to carry on any kind of decent conversation with Ari, so he's grateful when she pulls him by the wrist back to the sofa and asks him if he knows how to play Mario Kart.

Ari doesn't believe Eames' protests of being rubbish at videogames, but she sees soon enough that he wasn't exaggerating and is laughing hysterically as he swerves into walls and veers off bridges. 

They drink a glass of punch each, because Ari swears it will improve his play, and are picking up the controllers again when the lights from Arthur's car flash through the lounge as he pulls into the drive. 

Eames heart is in his throat. Will there be evidence on Arthur's clothes or in his expression? How will Eames hide his dismay from Ari if there is? 

But to Eames' surprise, Arthur's attire looks exactly as crisp and unrumpled as it had upon his leaving and his hair is still perfectly slicked back ... well it is until Arthur slumps into a chair and scrubs his hands through it and then loosens his tie and throws it over toward Ari's head. 

He looks like Eames' father after a bad day at work, not like a boy in the beginnings of a whirlwind romance

"Fuck, I hate this kind of crap," he mutters. 

Eames feels as if perhaps he should leave, but it isn't exactly an opportune time to raise the subject with Arthur apparently in a foul mood. 

As if reading his thoughts, Arthur looks directly at Eames across the room. 

"Did Dom already go?"

Eames nods.

"Good for him. I'm glad something nice came out of this shitty night."

"Would you like me to leave as well?" Eames asks, not sure how else to approach the elephant in the room of his continued presence. 

"Actually, would you mind just crashing here? I really fucking need a drink in the worst way."

Eames' heart is racing. He nods, isn't sure whether Arthur notices, and adds, "No I don't mind at all."

"I have an extra bed in my room. Dom used to sleep over all the time. He probably even left some PJs here you could wear."

Eames' whole body feels flushed. He's suddenly very aware of Ari's proximity to him in this hot and bothered state. He looks over at her and she grins like a fucking maniac, the nutter. 

"Arthur, you will never believe how terrible Eames is at Mario Kart. Like epically bad."

"Oh yeah?" Arthur asks, as he moves toward the alcohol in the kitchen. 

"Can we not turn this into make Eames feel pathetic night?" he asks. 

"Oh but we must," Arthur replies, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist and gulping down more punch as if he's making up for lost time. 

Like his sister, Arthur laughs and laughs at Eames' poor skills, but he isn't unkind and actually resets the game's difficulty so that Eames can practice on his own without constantly crashing. 

Then Arthur and Ari play each other and they are so much better than he that Eames feels even more embarrassed for himself. 

So he has more punch. 

And Arthur has more punch and Ari, too. 

By the time they give up and decide to watch another film, all three are well and truly bladdered, which is probably how they end up selecting the Muppet Christmas Carol. 

Ari sings along with all the musical numbers and cries at the end. 

Arthur declares that he has earned Die Hard 3. And more punch. 

By the time Samuel L Jackson's sons are in danger of exploding, Ari wanders away to use the loo and and doesn't return for some time. 

Eames asks if they should check on her. 

"She probably just fell asleep, but I'll go look, if you're worried," Arthur says. 

"You're not?"

"Nah, she's fine."

Nevertheless, he disappears up the stairs for a few minutes before reporting back that Ari is safely ensconced in her bed.

Arthur pours them each another glass of punch and resumes the film. 

"It's sweet that you're always looking out for her," he says.

Eames sighs. 

He's pissed enough to say, "for the last bloody time, Arthur, I am not trying to pull with your sister."

"Oh, I know you're not," Arthur replies so cooly that it stuns Eames. 

He looks up, and Arthur grins at him slyly, eyes narrowed appealingly. 

"Are you trying to 'pull' with someone else?" he asks, making air quotes. 

Eames can feel himself blushing and tries not to squirm. 

"No, not really," he answers, which he supposes is honest enough since he doesn't have any actual intentions toward Arthur beyond indulging in fantasies about him. 

"Too bad," Arthur says. 

Eames desperately wants to respond--to ask Arthur who he fancies--but he can't quite unstick his tongue. 

"Why?" he manages to stammer.

Arthur merely shrugs and turns back to the film. 

Eames feels as if he's failed some test. The silence between them, so companionable only moments before is a now a bit fraught. 

"More punch," he asks, standing before Arthur even answers.

"I am so loaded," Arthur giggles as he downs his glass. 

He actually giggles. Eames is gobsmacked.

"Thanks for letting me do this," Arthur adds. 

Eames looks at him, confused. 

"Do what?"

"Get wasted. I really needed it. Julie was driving me crazy."

"She didn't seem too well pleased with you, mate."

"I never should have agreed to go. It was just so awkward in the moment when she asked me. I couldn't think what else to say but yes."

"I know what you mean. I was so glad Ari had already asked me when Sophie did. I wouldn't have been able to say no, but I find her so damned annoying."

"Really? Ari says she is hot for your jock."

Eames shudders for comic effect and Arthur laughs. 

"What if you'd still said yes, and then had to juggle two dates, like in some cheesy sitcom?"

"And I was changing clothes in the bathroom between dances with each girl?"

Arthur is laughing like a maniac now, practically gasping for air. He doubles over, grabbing Eames' wrist as he does so. 

Eames freezes in place. 

Arthur is touching him, however casually. His heart is racing. He wants to stay in this moment forever. 

Arthur must sense Eames' stillness, because he pauses and looks up at him. 

They stare at each other. Arthur's breath is audible. Eames feels as if his heartbeat must be, too, although he knows that's impossible.

Recognition and relief flash across Arthur's beautiful features and before Eames can open his mouth to say a word, Arthur is leaning forward and kissing him. 

Eames has been kissed before. Of course he has. But nothing like this--when you've wanted someone for so long and then suddenly have them. 

He threads his fingers through the impossibly soft hair at Arthur's nape. 

Arthur lets out a soft moan and presses Eames backward against the sofa cushions. Eames runs his hands down Arthur's back. Arthur rucks Eames' shirt out from his trousers and runs a hand up his side, thumb grazing his abdomen. Eames shudders with pleasure. 

In response, Arthur wedges his knee between Eames' thighs and presses against his erection with his hip. Eames lets out a truly undignified sound in response, but Arthur seems to like it, because he growls against Eames' mouth and breaks away to nibble on his ear and kiss his neck. Eames squirms, pressing up against Arthur's own hard prick. 

Arthur's definitely in charge of the situation. But Eames doesn't mind a bit. His hands are all over Eames, unbuttoning his waistcoat and shirt and gently rubbing his chest and nipples. 

Eames can't believe this is happening. He is finally going to have it off with someone, and not just any old random bloke, but Arthur. All the waiting was worth it.

"Let's go up to my room," Arthur whispers in his ear and Eames shivvers in anticipation. 

As he mounts the stairs, Arthur comes up behind Eames, pressing against the length of his body and reaching his hands to palm Eames' prick. The shock of it causes Eames to stumble and they nearly take a fall. Clinging to each other and giggling in their drunkenness. 

"Shhhh," Eames cautions. "Don't wake Ari."

"Dead to the world," Arthur replies, pausing in their ascent to kiss Eames' neck again. 

Arthur guides Eames to his room, and immediately pulls his own shirt off over his head. He's smooth and quite muscular, his athleticism on full display across his chest and arms. 

Eames isn't as boldly confident as Arthur with his roaming hands, but he does wrap his arms around Arthur's waist as they stumble, kissing, across the room and fall into bed. 

Arthur goes straight for Eames' belt and Eames whimpers in eagerness, and perhaps a bit in fear. 

"Don't be scared," Arthur whispers. "I won't tell anyone."

As if that's what Eames is worried about, not being shown up for his lack of experience. 

Eames doesn't respond as he assists Arthur's efforts and wriggles out of his courderoys and toes off his socks. 

Arthur stands to step out of his trousers and then straddles Eames' torso, pushing is cotton-clad prick up against Eames' silky, tented pants. Arthur groans deep in his throat and thrusts down a few more times, before flipping them over with practiced ease and pulling Eames flush against his body. 

They're kissing desperately, drunkenly sloppy but still the best Eames has ever had in his young life. 

Arthur is palming Eames' bum with one hand and stroking the back of his thigh with the other. He teases his fingers against the leg opening of Eames' pants, sliding his fingers just barely beneath the fabric against his hip. 

Eames is shaking, anxiety and anticipation warring inside his mind and body. If Arthur notices, he doesn't say anything further to soothe, just slides his other hand beneath the waistband, fingers spreading out across Eames' arse with casual possession. 

"You're ridiculous," he breathes against Eames' mouth, but it sounds like a compliment. 

He's very strong, moving Eames' body around the small bed as if it were nothing. Arranging them side by side, chest to chest before he slides Eames' pants down over his straining prick. 

He looks up at Eames and grins before reaching out to roll back his foreskin. Eames moans and Arthur swallows it with another kiss as he uses Eames' precome to start stroking him with his long, calloused fingers, so utterly different to Eames' own. 

With trembling hands, Eames reaches out to return the favor, pulling Arthur's long, thin prick out and rubbing it with featherlight fingers. 

"Here, hold on," Arthur says, pausing to lick Eames' hand for moisture and then his own. 

"Tell ... tell me ... tell me what you like," Eames whispers, not wanting to get it wrong. 

"You," Arthur pants back, which nearly shorts out Eames' brain. 

So he tries his best to give Arthur a firm grip and a steady rhythm, made difficult by the way Arthur's hands are driving him absolutely wild.

His whole body feels drenched in sweat and nothing that's happening even makes sense, but it doesn't matter. Nothing else matters but these two pairs of hands hands, and these two pricks, and these two mouths. 

When Eames comes it's like a tsunami crashing over him and rushing over his whole body, drowning him in pleasure. Arthur follows him over the edge, thank fuck, and Eames watches his face scrunch up and then go slack with bliss . 

Arthur hands him a small towel to wipe off with, and then tosses it across the room. He reaches up to switch off the lights and then arranges his body around Eames' as if this were the sort of thing they did all the time. 

"I am so glad that finally fucking happened," Arthur whispers, kissing just behind Eames' ear and then seemingly falling immediately asleep.


	10. Morning After

Eames wakes to all-consuming pleasure that is magnified by the disorientation at his unfamiliar surroundings. 

He pushes up on his elbows, to see Arthur looking up at him through his lashes, Eames' prick halfway down his lovely throat. 

It all comes crashing back--the snogging, the tug jobs, the cuddles. 

"Am I dreaming," he pants out, confused by lust and an undercurrent of exhaustion. 

Arthur slides his mouth off with a quiet popping sound. 

"Nope," he replies, grinning. "I know it's the ass-crack of dawn, but couldn't wait any longer. Are you all right? Too hungover? Do you need to ralph?"

"What? No I'm ... lovely, actually."

"Good," Arthur says and sets back to business. 

It's obvious he's done this before, which is blowing Eames' mind almost as much as the hot, wet, slippery sensation of Arthur's lips and tongue working in orchestrated concert. 

He tries to hold still, but can't help thrashing about a bit at Arthur's skilled technique. How has he been hiding this right in front of Eames' face all this time?

Eames isn't quiet at all, doesn't remotely consider Ari just down the hall. But Arthur seems to love it, humming and groaning with his lips clamped around Eames' impossibly hard prick. 

When he comes, it's almost too much to bear. Almost. Just on the right side of stopping his heart forever. 

Arthur laughs and crawls up Eames' body, grinding his erection against Eames' hip. 

They kiss and he tastes his own come in Arthur's mouth. More than all the other mad things that have happened since last night this is what does Eames' head in. 

"How is this reality?" he whispers. 

They kiss for a few minutes, Arthur continuing to roll his body against Eames' before Eames works up the courage to stammer out, "can I ... do you want me to ... I've never ..." as his face flushes with heat.

"You've got to be kidding me," Arthur replies, reaching out to trace his fingers against Eames' lips, and he isn't sure whether he should feel flattered or insulted. 

Arthur must see it on his face, because he nips Eames' ear and says, "it's OK, give me your hands."

Eames is much more sober now than he'd been the night before and he focuses on touching Arthur in all the ways he likes to touch himself, in listening to the noises Arthur makes as he presses his face into Eames' neck. 

When he spurts all over Eames fingers, he shivers through his whole body and then collapses on the bed, breathing heavily. 

Eames licks his hand, just to know what it tastes like and then feels like an incredible weirdo when he realizes that Arthur is watching. 

"You really haven't ever ...?" he asks.

In a fit of honesty that he hopes will explain any clumsiness on his part, Eames blurts out that he's never done any of this before. 

"Please don't tell me you're straight," Arthur says and even after everything that's happened, it's a shock to hear him say it so casually. 

"I ... no. Don't be ridiculous," he huffs, taken aback. "You're the heteronormative one here with your baseball and your ... beer drinking. I'm the artistic, theatrical one."

Arthur's body stiffens against his. 

"So what?" he asks "I like dick. That's all that should matter. Not my fucking ... extracurriculars. If you say that then you're as bad as the kids who think Ari is a lesbian, because she likes power tools."

Eames is stung. 

But be remembers how hurt he'd been when Lucas had said it was easier for Eames to act and get cast in good roles, because he was gay. 

He knows Arthur is right. It's only just ... he feels so put on the back foot by this revelation that someone as butch and red-blooded, all-American as Arthur could casually talk about his love of dick and meanwhile Eames is the pathetic virginal one between them. It doesn't match up with even the wildest fantasy Eames had about Arthur before now.

He apologizes, "you're right ... I just. I didn't like feeling as if you were ... look, I have no experience. I'm not exactly proud of that, but ... is it really so unbelievable?"

"I just meant that it's surprising, because you're so hot. I can't believe no one's tried to get in your pants"

Eames flushes again. It's too humiliating to admit that he was waiting for someone special, so he says: "I wanted it to be with someone my own age."

Arthur nods sympathetically.

"I get that. It's hard. I mean, it's not like I've hooked up with _that many_ guys. But they've all been in their 20s and maybe that makes them pervs, I don't know ... but I had fun," he shrugs.

"All of the guys I've kissed are in their 30s. It feels ... not what I want."

He tells Arthur about sneaking off to the club and what little he got up to there, and Arthur tells him about the landscaper at his grandmother's condo with whom he exchanged his first handies, and the lifeguard at a Texas pool who showed him how to suck cock, and the ski instructor who'd let Arthur fuck him during a trip with Dom's family the year previous. 

Strangely, none of it makes him jealous. It's just a relief to be able to discuss such things with someone who gets it. Most his friends back home don't see how Eames' dating woes are different to their own lack of ability to attract attention from girls. Except Naomi, of course. She's brilliant.

"Wait, does Dom know?" Eames asks as Arthur discusses sneaking around with the ski instructor.

"No," Arthur replies. "I ... I feel bad for not telling him sometimes, but ... well, I have my reasons."

He's blushing and Eames puts together the meaning behind his words. 

"You fancied him?"

"Not ... not for a long time. But ... when we were younger I did."

Eames might be just the tiniest bit jealous. He recognizes it as absurd, but he wonders if he would be here in Arthur's bed if Dom had ever expressed the slightest hint of curiosity. 

"One of my best mates kissed me once," Eames confesses. "I didn't even fancy him or anything. But he wanted to know what it would be like and somehow didn't think that it might fuck with my head."

Arthur laughs sympathetically and they sit in silence for a few drowsy minutes. 

"Speaking of Dom, you should probably get at least sorta dressed and sleep in the other bed if we're not going to get up now, which--fuck no we're not, I'm so hungover. He has a tendency to just burst in without knocking."

"He does that to me all the time at home. And he picks up my things and rifles through them as if the concept of privacy were completely unknown to him," Eames replies as he disentangles himself and starts looking for his vest and pants from the night previous. 

"He's almost caught me jerking off so many times, you have no idea," Arthur says with a casualness that makes Eames flush again. 

"Oh I think I might," he responds, feeling embarassed to mention it, even in light of their recent activities. 

He pulls on his discarded underthings and crawls into the unusued second twin bed. Arthur gets up and grabs some sweatpants, but remains shirtless before diving back under his own blankets.

"We can go have breakfast at the diner at a decent hour," he mumbles.

Eames had hoped for another goodnight kiss, or good morning kiss, he supposes, but perhaps sober Arthur doesn't indulge in such things. 

He stares at the ceiling, listening to the breathing from across the room grow steady and even, still a bit too shocked and elated for sleep. But eventually exhaustion wins out and he nuzzles down into his pillow and closes his eyes.


End file.
